Molly and The Riding Crop
by ladywildcow
Summary: Who doesn't adore Molly? This is a jokey short story about one of Molly's plans to gain the attention of Sherlock...with a riding crop. Enjoy.


**MOLLY AND THE RIDING CROP by LWC**

**I adore Molly. I find her hilarious as well as feeling so very sorry for her. I hope one day she gets her man. So, this is a short jokey story about one of her plans to bring her closer to Mr Holmes.**

**Naturally, I did not invent these characters – merely borrowed them. I hope you enjoy it.**

Molly Hooper looked into the microscope on the desk and pretended that she wasn't thinking about Sherlock in the morgue. She remembered the time she had watched him beat a corpse with a riding crop and the thrill it had given her. It was as a if a small door opened through to his soul and she could see a glimmer of a passionate man that lay beneath. It was these glimmers that made her hopeful. Yes, there were times she thought she was hopelessly hopeful but she couldn't help the attraction she felt for him. There was simply just no one else like him.

It wasn't just his physical appearance. Yes, he was tall, dark and handsome with an almost a mystical quality to his face. It was if a highly intelligent angel had decided to come to earth and hadn't quite fully adjusted to the surrounding humans.

But he wasn't an angel. He was a flesh and blood man and she hoped that there was part of him that was physically attracted to her. He must've have had a lover at some point in his life. There must be some part of him that experienced desire and lust. Maybe if she just didn't fumble her words every time she tried to ask him to join her for a coffee he would think of her that way. Molly blamed her nervousness for not conveying clearly her intentions and she was too shy to correct him when he misunderstood. Next time….next time she would get it right and next time he would understand and….accept.

But then there had been the corpse of Irene Adler. He had recognised her dead, naked body on the slab. Molly knew that meant he must've seen her naked at some point but when? How? Had they been…..intimate? A stabbing pain hit her in the pit of her stomach. Had he kissed her passionately? Had they…..but Molly stopped her torment in mid-thought.

Like all fascinations with a rival, Molly's curiosity about Irene Adler had plagued her and she decided to do her research. Perhaps in finding out more about Irene, she would find out what stirred the passions of Sherlock.

Irene Adler, she discovered, had been a dominatrix. On first discovering this, Molly had been drinking a coffee and at the moment on seeing Irene's site for the first time, she almost spat out the hot liquid and averted her eyes.

She slowly went back to the screen, her eyes widening as she looked at the images.

Had Sherlock being going to a dominatrix?

Was that what he liked? To be dominated.

It would explain why he wasn't interested in her. She was shy, nervous and quiet – unlike a dominatrix. However, the joy of discovering a piece of the Sherlock puzzle made her heart skip and the glimmer of hope expanded in her. If she became more dominant – then maybe, just maybe, she would get his attention…..and this was the start of her plan.

Molly opened the large drawer next to her and looked at a long, thin paper bag. She chewed her lip as she looked at it. At first, she put her hand in and touched the bag but then quickly slammed the drawer shut and blushed slightly.

She paused. Took a deep breath and re-opened the drawer. She swallowed hard, put her hand on the bag and pulled it out. She suppressed a nervous giggle and chewed her lip again. She slowly opened the bag and pulled out a leather crop – looked at it and quickly put it back in the bag once again. She then brought up the courage to open the bag, take out the crop and put it on her desk.

She giggled and looked around her. She picked up the crop, held it and very quickly put it down once again. She reached back into the drawer and pulled out a photo of Irene Adler – draped neck to toe in see-through black lace, sprawled out on a black, leather table wearing a black eye-mask and holding a leather crop in her hand. The crop was the same as Molly's.

Molly looked at Irene's expression and tried to copy the stern look - a haughty look with a very slight seductive pout. Molly pouted her lips and picked up the crop. With her back to the door, she waved the crop about gently and tentatively tapped her desk. 'Bad Sherlock,' she whispered and giggled. "Whose been a bad Sherlock, then?" she whispered and tapped the table again. She felt her cheeks blush and a huge urge to explode into a fit of the giggles.

"Molly, " came the clipped voice of Sherlock. Molly's eyes widened and she threw the crop back into the drawer and spun around to see Sherlock standing in the doorway.

"..I wasn't….I mean, yes…hello…yes.." she gushed, running her hand over her hair and putting her other hand to her mouth. She knew her cheeks were pink and her eyes shiny.

Sherlock stood still at the door and seemed to pause for a moment. He closed the door behind him and walked slowly over to her. Molly tried to put on the most nonchalant face she could and ended up with a huge, false grin.

Sherlock walked closer to her so that he was standing in front of her.

"Molly?," he said with the slight air of a suspicious headmaster.

"Yes….Sherlock, " Molly replied and chewed her lip. His eyes glanced over her and over to her desk drawer.

"You seem a bit flustered," Sherlock said matter-of-factly. He pointed to her cheek.

"Pink cheeks, shining eyes, nervous hand gestures – what have you been doing?" he asked.

"I…nothing..nothing at all.." she stammered.

"Why did you slam your drawer?" he asked.

"I didn't…I didn't slam it…it slammed," she replied, her mind racing with a mixture of embarrassment and the thrill she always got when he standing close to her.

"Yes…it slammed and…" she said, licking her lips and trying to put on a tougher stance by frowning and placing a hand on her hip. "It's actually my desk and I can slam what I like," she said and then turned to her desk and rather gently slapped the desk. "See..I can slap my desk – if I want to."

Sherlock put his hands behind his back and raised an eyebrow.

"And…"she said, turning back to Sherlock." If you're quite finished with using my morgue, "Molly said, taking a deep breath. "I would like a coffee…. "

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something.

"Two sugars," she whispered. "Just a little milk," she added.

Sherlock looked quizzically at her for a moment then took a step closer towards her and sniffed her mouth. Shocked, Molly took a step back.

Sherlock took another step closer and took hold of her wrist gently.

"Molly, you don't quite seem yourself," he whispered. Molly opened and closed her mouth and put her hands on her hips, releasing his gentle grip on her.

"Oh…oh..don't I?Well maybe, it's because I need…a coffee.." she said and added: "Goddamit," and slapped the desk again.

Sherlock mouth 'Goddamit?'

"So,.." Molly said, waving her hand around as casually as she could and then pointed at him…"I am telling you…Sherlock…to fetch me a coffee…now…" she said and then added…"please."

Sherlock raised both his eyebrows and lowered them. He paused for a moment before he took another step forward.

"Molly.." he began.

"And…a packet of crisps," she added, her finger still pointing at him.

Sherlock raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture. "Molly, I think you may well have been drugged," he whispered gently and reassuringly.

Molly looked at him with surprise. "Ready salted, " she whispered. "I have not been drugged," she protested. "I just really….really need a hot drink," she said and sat down on her desk.

Sherlock took another step closer towards her slowly. "Let me sit next to you, " he said.

"What? Err no…no…"she said, jumping up to her feet and continued pointing at him. "I would like you to do as I say…and not to argue with me," she added and then pouted very slightly.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows again and put on his gentlest voice.

"Molly, I will fetch you a coffee, if you let me sit next to you," Sherlock whispered and took a step closer. Molly took another step back and was soon running out of space to back into. He took another step forward and she found herself backed into the wall.

"Oh, " she said looking around and found herself looking up into the penetrating blue eyes of Sherlock. "Ummm…"

Sherlock took hold of her chin and tilted her face upwards towards him. He leaned down and sniffed her mouth again and seemed perplexed. Molly looked like a rabbit trapped in headlights.

Sherlock turned her face from side to side as he inspected her.. "Hmm" he whispered. "No noticeable odour". He felt her throat and looked behind her ears.

She opened her mouth to protest and he held her mouth with her lips parted. "Hmmm" he repeated and then leaned forwards.

"Molly, don't be alarmed," he said and then brought his mouth to hers and kissed her. Molly's eyes widened as she felt his soft lips touch hers and his tongue gently entering her mouth. Molly's heart and soul skipped as she felt what it was like to have a moment of physical intimacy with Sherlock. She moaned gently and closed her eyes. She wanted the moment to last forever.

She felt lightheaded as he slowly removed his mouth from hers.

He looked perplexed.

"I cannot detect any trace of a drug at all, " he whispered to her.

Molly had a slightly dazed look across her face and was smiling. She hadn't heard a word he had said. All she could feel was the pressure where Sherlock's lips had been on hers. Her mind raced off onto a thousand images. Sherlock's mouth dominating hers as his hands slowly unbuttoned her blouse.

"Perhaps in the air.." he said more to himself than Molly.

Molly imagined Sherlock's mouth kissing her neck slowly and moving down to her breasts. She moaned slightly as she imagined his mouth licking her breasts – teasing them….making them so taut it hurt.

Sherlock put an arm around Molly and guided her to her chair.

She imagined him climbing on top of her….

"Just sit here and I'll fetch you a coffee," he whispered.

She imagined looking up into his eyes as he thrust deep and hard into her – feeling the sheer joy of him being inside her.

"Hmmm…yes…" she whispered.

…now he was building a strong rhythm – thrusting into her again and again as she gripped his hair and threw her head back in ecstasy.

"Ok, Molly," he said. "I won't be long. Just sit here and I'll be back."

"Hmm…yes" she smiled and swayed gently.

Sherlock put a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. "Just sit tight," he said.

Molly giggled and Sherlock looked concerned and swiftly left the room.

Molly slowly stood up and walked over to her drawer. She opened it and pulled out the picture of Irene Adler.

"Thank you, Miss Adler, " she whispered as she pulled out her crop. "Thank you so very much."

She smiled and waited for her coffee.

The end.


End file.
